Watermark

Summary: Everything reminded him of her. He knew he had to get over this and home was not the place to do it. So, he ran away and it seems like a stranger and her family will be the ones who can heal him. JacobOC ECLIPSE SPOILERS Book One of the Imprints of Life series. FINAL CHAPTER HAS BEEN POSTED! AU

Notes:

11. Chapter 11

She had not spoken to him all night, nor had she glanced his way that morning. As the family sat half asleep, eating breakfast, Jacob kept trying to catch Samara's eyes. The young artist would not even look at him, preferring even the pitcher of juice to his eyes. It made his stomach clench slightly with an unrealistic fear, but he decided to ignore it. Whatever it was, she would come around and tell him in a, hopefully, civil way.

"I met some lovely people at the party last night," Emily gushed. "I am so glad you talked us into going, Samara."

Samara gave her step mom a small smile. "Who did you meet?"

If Emily noticed the slight dour tone in her daughter's voice, she did not say anything about it. "He was a doctor and his wife. They were a young couple. Not even into their thirties I believe. He must have just started practicing. He was very handsome and she was gorgeous. They have adopted two teenagers also. I was impressed. They weren't there though."

That sick feeling was back in Jacob's stomach. It couldn't be, God, the Fates, whoever dictated what happened in his life would not be so cruel? Would they?

Apparently Samara shared his mind set for she met his eyes for the first time in hours with a panicked expression on her face.

"What were their names?" Jacob asked, feigning curiosity to hide the dread in his voice.

There was silence around the table. "Oh," Samara finally said, casting a look at Jacob that caught him by surprise. "Those are nice names." She got to her feet. "May I be excused?"

Her father nodded, and casting the same look at Jacob again, she left. He picked at his food as the other girls questioned their mother about the party. That look, he had seen it before so he knew what it meant. He just never thought he would see that look in her eyes. Disappointment, anger, and a touch of loathing. He did not understand why she would do that, what had changed so suddenly to make her hate him. There was that feeling in his stomach again. He took a drink of cold juice to try to rid himself of it and nearly spat it out at Emily's next words.

"I invited them for dinner tomorrow night. They accepted. The doctor and his wife."

Oh, yeah, the dictators of his life were sadistic, evil, little bastards who deserved a hit over the head or worse, a nice tortures death with lots of maiming and loss of their limbs. He quickly excused himself and went to find Samara. He did not need her hating him, nor did he want her to hate him.

"Damn it!" he growled when he made it to the second floor.

"You shouldn't curse," her voice came from the small closet Ben had converted into a studio of sorts for her.

He did not even pause. Within seconds he was in the closet with her, door closed and a determined expression on his face. It was not one of his best plans, that was for sure, but she had no way of escaping from him. With all the paints, pallets and supplies around there was not much room to move. There was even less with Jacob's large frame dominating most of it. They stood, facing each other, thigh to thigh and hip to hip with less then an inch separating them. Her head barely reached his chin and she had to lift her head, a lot, in order to look into his eyes. Yes, not one of his better plans. It was cramped and getting sufficiently warmer by the seconds. Very warm, with her hips rubbing against his-he slapped himself mentally. Focus, he scolded.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Smooth.

Her glare was icy and if he could back up, he would have. "For starters I have a paint brush jabbing into my back."

"Samara."

"It's nothing."

"You're mad at me, Samara and I want to know why." He was trying a different approach now, a more menacing one. His voice was a soft growl and he had put his arms on either side of her head, forcing her farther against the wall and to look him in the eyes.

This did not seem to have an effect. She pushed forward so he was forced to move his arms and glared at him. "Why?" she whispered, scoffing. "You want to know ‘why?' Can't you figure that out?"

He shook his head. "Believe me, I've tried." He would have folded his arms across his chest and he tried, only to brush his arm against her own and earning another icy glare. The arms and hands were better left at his sides.

"They were right there, you were right there, Sally was right there and they could have hurt her!" It all came out in a rush and she hit him in the chest with each pronoun.

He starred at her in shock trying to figure out who ‘they' were. It hit him, but before he could say anything she broke in again.

"Then, I find out they were at the party with my parents. What kind of protector are you? My family as been in their presence and will continue to be!"

"You heard about the dinner, I see."

Her eyes flashed and her hands were made into fists. "How can you-"

"They are not the ones you need to worry about."

"Excuse me?"

"I told you. They drink the blood of animals and they help humans whenever they can. Believe me it is a good thing they are around. It is their presence, not mine, that probably scared that newborn away."

She glared up at him. "You hated them when you spoke of them to me. You voice held such venom it scared me."

"I...It is difficult to explain, Samara, I-"

"Well try! You've fu-messed up enough already."

He raised an eyebrow at her quick change in word as he gathered his thoughts. Finally, he spoke: "That was my wolf side speaking. My human side knows that they are allies and friends. The wolf is stronger though and sees them as enemies. They aren't, I know this when they are away, but it is harder when I smell them. They smell disgusting."

She blinked up at him and shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable in the cramped space.

He glared down at her head. "Don't move around so much."

She looked up at him in confusion, before a shocked look passed over her face. She blushed and tore her eyes from his and to the door behind him. He could feel it in her body language and smell that she was not convinced.

He pulled her into a hug and, letting his lips touch her ear he whispered. "You need to trust me."

She did not move or answer for the longest time. Her skin, though cooler then his, still felt wonderfully warm under his lips. "Samara," he whispered.

"I-but what if-" She was struggling to keep her anger with him; she always did when they fought. Same with him, he just could not stay mad at her. Perhaps it was a sign of maturity or perhaps it was that his affections ran deeper then petty teenaged disputes.

He pulled as far away from her as possible to look into her eyes. "I would never, let anything happen to you. I trust these people...in a way. Please, trust me."

A pause.

"I trust you," she whispered and allowed him to kiss her again.

The next evening found Jacob in the attic and starring into the front yard. He was not keeping watch, he told himself, but he knew it was not true. No matter what he told Samara, his wolf side did not trust these people and no matter how many times he told himself it was wrong, it refused to believe him. So here he was, dressed in something appropriate that Samara had picked out and awaiting a night of tension.

Her smell was the only thing that alerted him of her presence. She was not wearing shoes, preferring to tuck them under his legs these days so her footsteps were almost silent. He looked up at her and had to catch his breath. She did not normally work on her appearance, though he found her beautiful all the same, a biased thought of course, but still, she was a beauty. This time, though, it was obvious she had worked at her for Emily's pleasure. Her hair normally straight had curls in them and was pulled back in the front to keep it out of her eyes, which were lined and tastefully made up. Her dress was black and fell just bellow the knee.

She grinned at his gob smacked expression. "Brittany did it all," she exclaimed, motioning to herself. "Expect for the dress. She says all the black makes me look like a witch."

He rolled his eyes as her slim fingers reached over to fix the first few buttons that were not buttoned correctly. It might have been his imagination, he knew it wasn't but he had no proof and he knew she would deny it should he bring it up, but her fingers seemed to intentionally brush over the skin of his chest.

"So," he said with a grin. "Are you a witch?"

"No, of course not." She finished with his buttons and put her hands in her lap.

He nodded his thanks and brushed a strand of hair away from his face, frowning down into the yard. Her head cocked and she moved slightly closer.

"I can say you have thrown up all over the place or caught cold if you want me to."

He shook his head and looked at her. "What is with you and your lack of sleeves in cold places?"

She shrugged and when he moved her into his lap she giggled. "That's why."

He did not say anything.

"You're sure you don't want to be sick?"

"They would know I was avoiding them."

"Male pride then? Fine, but if you have to tear them limb from limb please don't mess up the carpet."

Jacob laughed. "Just yesterday you were angry at me for them coming around, and now you're cracking jokes."

"You take it as it comes," she retorted, moving to get up from his lap.

He held her down firmly, a frown planted on his face. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, Jake. Are you?"

"Never better."

They sat in silence, starring out into the snow covered front yard, neither one wanting to break the silence. "Why is it so hard for people to be honest with each other?" Samara finally asked. "You're not being honest with me right now and I was not honest with you yesterday. There is so much heartache when you don't and so much when you do, but at least you know the truth."

Jacob shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you are afraid to disappoint the person or you are afraid they will think less of you."

"Perhaps." She starred at her finger nails with a frown. There was no trace of paint like their usually was and he found himself missing it. It was an odd quark that he found he enjoyed in her.

The sound of a car on the gravely driveway interrupted his thoughts.

"Nice car," Samara commented. "He is a doctor of course."

Jacob remembered that car, the little one had driven it when she came to check on Bella. Bella, according to Samara Bella was in Alaska learning how to be a safe vampire.

"You're doing it again."

"What?"

"That thing with your jaw. Don't be angry. Remember that carpet." She stood up and this time he let her.

"Listen, you stay up here until dinner. I'll come and get you."

He just nodded, keeping his eyes focused bellow. They were exiting the car, all four of them, dressed as nicely as the Dawsons were. He took a deep breath as Samara paused at the bottom of the stairs to grab her shoes, before he smell blended into the rest of the house. Let the night begin.